


Practically Angelus

by Pinkstationfrerard



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkstationfrerard/pseuds/Pinkstationfrerard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hot guys in bands didn't hit on Patrick. It just didn't work that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Practically Angelus

It had been only a week, and already patrick had almost electrocuted himself with a toaster, almost slammed his fingers in between the door, and he almost managed to go a whole week without calling his mom and telling her that he wasn’t ready to be an adult yet.

It was Patrick’s first year of not being in college, so it was his first year away from all his friends (a.k.a Joe and Patrick’s mom). After a week, he decide he really needed to get out. Being 23, a long time single dude, and an introvert who had the self protection levels of a fucking baby wasn’t the best mix. 

After mentally forcing himself to look up some local band playing a show that night, Patrick was finally dressed in his vest with the short-sleeved button up underneath, black skinny jeans, his hat and glasses, and most importantly, dressed in an impressive set of regret.

The venue was a tiny little bar with way too many people shoved in as always, and it used to be a feeling Patrick craved. That feeling of connection, of sweaty bodies moving and bonding over music.

All Patrick could think of now was how terribly alone he felt without the excuse of Joe to forget how bad his social skills and anxiety was.

The opening band was shitty, but not the good kind of shitty that made your head pound in the most wonderful way and your ears ring for days afterwards. It was the “why did I pay $5 to see this band” kind of shitty like Patrick’s failed band used to be.

God, he missed those days. Being in a band, not worrying about money except getting a few bucks for a bag of chips to get at a truck stop and eat for dinner.

By the time the first band had finally gotten off, Patrick’s nerves had only managed to have been semi-calmed by the two beers he had drunk. It wasn’t enough. He didn’t think he could ever get into music again, not with his new boring job and boring anxiety problems.

“You look like you could use another drink.” A voice spoke beside Patrick, and he turned his head to see a man sitting in the bar chair next to him, farther from the stage. 

He had short blonde hair, definitely bleached, telling from it’s lightness and the dark brows and skin of the stranger. A dark tank top for some metal band Patrick probably hated showed off his tattoos and toned arms.

Shiny pants (probably pleather) looked so tight that they were probably cutting off circulation to something. A playful, friendly smirk was splayed on his face as he continued.

“I know I do, that band was really shitty. I promise the lineup will get better, though.” the man said, flashing teeth with a real smile as he adjusted the bottom of his tank top.

Patrick chuckled under his breath, loud enough to be heard through the radio type music playing on the speakers as the next band set up. “Yeah, I haven’t been out in forever. I forgot how bad bands can get, and how many drinks it took to get through them.”

Patrick was proud at the fact that he managed to say this without sounding like a loser or an asshole. A lot of the times, he apparently cam off as unfriendly or just plain pitiful.

“Let me buy you a drink, my friend was the one who paid that band to be here. So, in a way, it’s kind of related to me in fault. Consider it repayment for your eardrums. I’m Pete, by the way.” 

Pete held out his hand, and Patrick shook it. He had calloused fingers like a guitarist, rough dark skin that felt warm against Patrick's hand.

Patrick used these thoughts to distract himself from the fact that this hot stranger was buying him a drink, because it definitely wasn’t him hitting on Patrick, because hot guys in bands didn’t hit on Patrick. It just didn’t make sense.

“Alright, cool, thank you. I’m Patrick. I heard from my friend that the headliner Arma is a good band, have you ever heard of them? I’m not much into metal like he is, but I thought that I should probably get out of my apartment before I drive myself up the walls.”

Pete bought two beers for them from the bartender, and the corners of his dark eyes crinkled up in amusement.

“Yeah, I’m pretty familiar with them. Their vocalist is pretty shitty, but overall, they’re good if you’re into metalcore.”

Patrick laughed, covering his mouth. It was pretty loud even in the practically vibrating room. He took a sip of his beer before replying to Pete.

“Sorry, it’s just.. don’t you need a good vocalist to have even a shitty band? I guess I’ll just have to wait and see, then.” 

Pete smiled. “Yeah, I try to give every band a chance. And this land one blew it, now that I’ve gotten a taste, fuck those guys! You suck!” Pete made an angry face, cupping his hands around his mouth and booing in a lighthearted, joking way. 

Patrick found himself actually giggling and booing back, saying obscene words and for once not really feeling bad about it.

Pete took another sip of his beer, lips curled up into a smile around the bottle. Fuck, he had nice lips.

“Let me guess, you’re a Bowie guy.” Pete started, leaning against the counter with his arm propping up his chin.

Patrick was surprised, and his brows shot up beyond the frame of his glasses. “How’d you know that? I know it looks like I don’t belong here, but still, music like Bowie and Elvis Costello is pretty far off from most of the average metalhead’s knowledge of existence.”

Pete mocked shock, pouting his lips and putting a hand up to his chest. “I’m deeply offended by your words, Patrick! You’re caging me into a category of music taste? How dare you.” Patrick bit his lip, surpassing a smile.

"I could tell because of your, to be frank, adorable face and the fact that you look like you’d rather be listening to your old record collection and limited edition vinyl of Space Oddity.”

He couldn’t stop smiling for some reason, and it made Pete’s face light up.

“Alright, alright. I was worried that you’d been stalking me for a while or something, and you saw my impressive record collection from outside my window.” 

“I would stalk you if I knew you before tonight, angelface.” Pete quipped, eyes bright and teasing. Flirting. Okay, Patrick could do this. Maybe. 

Patrick giggled again, wondering how that statement managed to not sound creepy. Pete seemed to make everything he said appealing, complete with charming smiles and hand gestures.

“I’d let you stalk me.” Patrick attempted, mentally slapping himself. This is why he never went out. Anytime someone tried to talk to him, he managed to fuck up and say something stupid. Pete didn’t seem worried, though, he just seemed pretty damn proud that his sort-of-line worked.

They talked all through the next band, eventually having to yell at each other, Pete’s eyes seeming to spark the whole time as he stared intently at Patrick.

They both got lost in talking about everything and nothing at all. Along the way, it didn’t exactly hurt that Pete put a subtle hand on Patrick’s thigh, making the shorter man blush. 

They spoke about everything to the pains and drags of both high school and adulthood but mainly music, both of them passionate about the subject.

"I love hardcore, man, but I'm just so tired of the growing homophobia and loss of any true lyrical meaning." Pete said in a lull between songs, tracing a circle on Patrick's clothed thigh. 

Pete admitted he was a angry music kind of guy, and Patrick hummed, chirping out a response. "The sound is the one thing putting me off, currently. The scene doesn't bother me usually, I can ignore stereotypes and expectations pretty easily. Or so I thought," Patrick chuckled, thinking back to the Bowie thing.

He wasn’t one to judge for tastes of any kind, especially considering some of his phases and some of his (very small amount of) exes.

“Hey, looks like the next band’s about to start. Wanna go up? I’ve seen them before, and they know how to put on a fucking show.” Pete said, finishing off his beer. 

Patrick just couldn’t stop thinking about how Pete had called him adorable, or how his face lit up when he talked about how the scene used to be so accepting.

He nodded his head, finishing off his own drink, feeling loose and a lot calmer as he got out of his seat, walking behind Pete and checking out his ass only a little.

Okay, maybe more than a little.

Everyone seemed to let Pete push past him once they saw his face, and Patrick thought he has magical concert powers or something. Probably was a friend of someone in the band, maybe.

The band actually was good, and Pete totally counted as reliable from then on. Their stage energy was amazing, the guitarist thrashing around like a maniac, drummer putting her life force into everything she had, and the lead singer jumping and dancing and singing like crazy.

The whole crowd was moving along to the beat, bodies pressed up against each other. There was probably one hundred people packed behind the stage, and Pete had managed to get them right up front. It was fantastic.

Pete also jumped and thrashed and moved along to the music against Patrick the whole time, too, this strange friction that made his body pulse and his head swim with too many thoughts to process.

Pete was sweaty and glorious, and Patrick almost wanted to take off his vest because it was so hot. Less clothes wan’t exactly his thing, though, so he just kept it on and enjoyed the show, enjoyed Pete’s touch.

"Fucking amazing!” Patrick shouted after the set, Pete leaned in really close to Patrick’s space. It was really loud with all the people around them, and their hot breaths mixed as they stood close together.

“I knew you’d love it.” Pete beamed, and for some reason Patrick found himself beaming back even more.

“Pete, hey asshole! Come fucking get ready with us and stop picking up fans!” A dude most likely from Arma shouted, and Pete yelled back without even looking at the guy.

“I’m coming, shut the fuck up.”

Patrick’s face of joy turned into confusion, and Patrick didn’t get the chance to ask Pete what was going on before the only slightly taller (so, still really fucking short) man said, “stay there.” and waded through the crowd.

Patrick was too short to see where he was going, and he didn’t see where Pete went until he was on the fucking stage, adjusting the front mic. He smiled down at Patrick before talking to the rest of the band, who threw glances at Patrick and nodded.

Patrick was just really confused, and not really concerned about it until the nervousness set in. He almost felt like he was about to perform, and Patrick was pretty sure that Pete was in Arma Angelus, the band Joe practically begged him to go see earlier that night, oh my god. 

Time seemed to go by pretty fast, and before he knew it, the crowd was cheering and the guitarist started their first song of the set. 

“I’m Pete Wentz, and we are Arma Angelus. Thanks for coming out tonight!” Pete shouted into the mic, and the crowd cheered in response. A girl next to Patrick shouted, “I love you Pete!” and Pete smiled at her briefly, but his eyes set on Patrick’s in a heated gaze.

Hell, the singer for the main band that night had called him angelface and jammed with him when there were several sets of tits around willing to probably blow him in the bathroom just because he was leading a popular local band.

Then Pete was screaming, and Patrick just lost it. He was throwing his hands in the air, dancing around, and staring at no one but Pete for all the band’s songs.

About four songs in, a big dude pushed Patrick to the ground to try get closer, and Pete stopped his screaming/singing to tell him off.

“Security, get that guy the fuck out of our show. We came here to have a good time, not push hot guys away from me.” Pete said as an anonymous pair of arms helped him up, and the big, drunk, swearing dude who had pushed him down was pulled out by a bored-looking security guard.

The crowed screamed and cheered even louder, and Patrick’s face flushed even more. Ama continued playing as Pete spoke, and after he was done he just continued with the vocals.

Before he knew it, Pete was saying “goodnight, everyone! We are Arma Angelus!” to a screaming crowd and throwing Patrick a wink.

Patrick couldn’t believe his life. He stood at the front of the stage until he saw Pete come out of the side, face, shirt and body covered in sweat. Patrick had the weirdest fucking hard-on of his life, and there were just too many goddamn things he wanted Pete to do to him.

“So, what’d you think of the show?” Pete said with a smile, flashing teeth and eyelashes practically batting.

“Their vocalist is pretty shitty, but I don’t know, he's really fucking hot.” Patrick breathed, adrenaline high from the show and the sound of his heart pumping in his ears. 

Pete’s gaze turned from gleeful to lustful in a second and a half, and he grabbed Patrick’s wrist, leading him to one of the back rooms.

There were a few guitars inside, and it seemed a little unused. Pete closed the door and pushed Patrick against it, pulling them close in a kiss that was a little bit of clashing teeth and sweat and spit, but it was perfect.

Pete slowed down, kisses still heavy and a bit filthy, but this time a little more calculated. Pete slid is hands all over Patrick’s body, thumbing the soft flesh of his thighs and hips.

“Fuck, Patrick. You’re so pretty. Wanted to do this ever since I saw you before the show.” Pete panted out, and Patrick would’ve thrown his head back if he could. He tilted it, instead, and Pete took it as an opportunity to suck on Patrick’s pale and sweaty neck. 

The few top buttons of his shirt had eventually been undone during the shows, but Patrick’s vest still covered up a bit of his neck and Pete pushed it down to give himself more access.

Pete dragged his teeth over Patrick’s collarbones, making him gasp and choke. Pete bit and sucked over the same spot a bit more intensely, and fuck, that was going to leave a dark bruise the next day, a deep contrast with Patrick’s porcelain skin. He couldn’t wait.

Patrick used his own hands to run his hands through Pete’s hair, pulling and tugging a little as the other man gave him a hickey. Pete pushed a knee in-between Patrick’s thighs, and he just couldn’t.

“Pete.” He choked, pulling harder on Pete’s hair. “Is there- is there any way we can do this at one of our places?” Patrick was so fucking hard, and he really, really wanted it to last.

“But I wanna blow you.” Pete pouted, but then he sighed, stepping back and eyeing up the sweaty, achingly hard, messy Patrick. “I live like a five minute drive away from here?” He suggested, and Patrick quickly nodded and tried to convince his dick to just wait a few minutes.

He noticed how hard Pete was breathing too, how his pants seemed a little more strained, and just the sight of the gorgeous man made Patrick more worked up than he could believe.

They made their way out of the room and eventually to Pete’s car after a minute or so, everything fading away a little bit and Patrick actually found himself getting nervous.

Of course, Pete had an old beat up truck, stacks of CD’s lying around in the backseat and the leather of the seats crumbling. Patrick picked at them the whole time as the drove with loud music drowning out the need for conversation. 

The cool, crisp air of the night rushing in through half-rolled down windows did a few favors for calming Patrick’s nerves.

He hadn’t slept with anyone in a really long time, even fooled around, and Patrick actually really liked Pete. In a “I want to get to know you and do this more often” kind of way.

The other man wasn’t just really hot, but he made Patrick feel a little more comfortable in his own skin.

“You okay?” Pete asked as his car pulled up to a semi shithole apartment, a concerned look on his face.

“Yeah, I just- It’s been a while? And I normally don’t sleep with partisl strangers?” Patrick offered nervously, and Pete nodded his head.

“We don’t have to, you kn-“ 

“No, come on. Let’s go.” Patrick said, taking off his seatbelt and opening the car door quickly. 

Pete was really sweet to offer after driving them both to his place just because Patrick seemed a bit uncomfortable, but he still really did want the other man.

Pete led him up to the second floor, walking up the winding stairs to the door with a “no, my music isn’t too loud” sign and Patrick smiled. Of course Pete would be that guy.

As soon as they were in, it was like the ten minute lapse from the room at the venue to Pete’s place never existed, and Pete was pushing his tongue into Patrick’s mouth with passion once again.

He was enthusiastic with kissing along with skillful, roaming around the inside of Patrick’s mouth and pressing his hands everywhere.

“Pete, bed.” Patrick breathed, and Pete grunted, leading him past a couch and what was probably a kitchen into a pitch-black bedroom. Pete turned on the lamp beside the bed and pushed Patrick down onto the mattress, a comic book thrown to the floor along with his movements.

Pete straddled Patrick at his thighs, the shorter man letting Pete pretty much ravish him. 

He took Pete’s tight tank top off, revealing more tattoos that he had only gotten a glimpse of before. The bat-looking one in-between his hipbones looked utterly delicious, and Patrick managed to push Pete off of him to taste it, trace it with his tongue.

Pete moaned and spluttered a string of curses, trying to take Patrick’s hat off.

“No, the hat stays on.” Patrick said a bit roughly, but he hoped his shy look after conveyed something other than anger. 

Pete took his hands off the hat and instead resting it on Patrick’s vest, giving the shorter man a questioning look. Patrick nodded, might as well get the undressing part over with.

Patrick shrugged the vest off while Pete worked on the buttons of Patrick’s shirt, his movements slower and more careful than anything else he had done previously. It made Patrick feel nice that Pete seemed to finally get how insecure Patrick was about his body.

“Holy shit.” Pete said, his eyes widening at shirtless Patrick. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” he said earnestly, and Patrick felt his heart flutter in his chest. He seemed totally honest, and Patruck didn't know how to process it.

Pete’s eyes seemed permanently glued to Patrick, a look of awe on his face.

It was a bit ridiculous, because Pete owned a mirror and a pair of eyes and he probably slept with so many fans and yet here he was telling Patrick that he was more beautiful than all of them, than himself. 

Patrick put his mouth to use once again, kissing Pete and then dragging his teeth along the thorns around Pete’s neck and chest, then down to the tattoo above his waist.

“Fuck, Patrick. Your mouth.” Pete said, propping up his head to get a better look at Patrick.

“Oh, yeah?” He drawled a bit mindlessly, popping the buttons of Pete’s skin tight jeans open, pulling the zipper, and inching them down. Pete’s cock had leaked through his briefs, and Patrick tongued the fabric.

There were pink crossbone skulls decorated in a pattern all over his underwear, and Patrick found himself snorting and looking up at Pete questionably.

“What? It’s punk rock.” He said, a little shakily, and then Pete shivered under him and gave up on justifying his undergarments when Patrick slipped them off to the middle of Pete’s thighs. 

Patrick continued teasing Pete until the groans turned more full of distress, licking everywhere except where Pete wanted and touching with feather-light fingers. Patrick liked to be a bit of a tease, but he wasn't cruel.

Pete had a pretty cock, all big, dark and just begging to be sucked off. 

Or maybe the begging part was just Pete’s raspy voice, broken from both the show and Patrick’s little prompting kisses on Pete’s hipbones. 

Patrick sucked and licked the head while holding the base, rolling his tongue over the slit and then taking the whole length far down his throat. He worked up a beat, holding down Pete’s hips to save his poor throat and he bobbed his head up and down to meet the other man’s small and muffled thrusts.

The sounds Pete made itself were almost orgasmic itself, desperate and pleading as Patrick sucked him off. He really wanted to make Pete come just from this, from his mouth. But at the same time, Patrick wondered what it would be like to have that pretty length inside of him, to have Pete fuck him all sweaty, rough and gorgeous.

“Oh god, Patrick- I can’t. I wanna- can I fuck you?” He asked with desperate eyes, and Patrick took his mouth off of Pete’s hard cock with an obscene popping noise.

“Y-yeah.” Patrick breathed, going back up to kiss Pete, have him taste himself on Patrick’s tongue. Pete’s mouth was pornographic and perfect in his, warm and wet. He knew they broth probably weren’t going to last very long, so blowing Pete more wasn’t really the best idea.

Pete got back into his previous position of straddling patrick, biting the soft flesh of his overflowing hips before taking off his jeans and shoes so he could bite at Patrick’s pale thighs.

Patrick had womanly thighs, pale, full and curvy, and while Patrick didn’t like them very much, Pete seemed to want to cover every inch of them in dark bruises. From a strange angle in his eye, Patrick could see a darkening spot below his neck. The thought of Pete marking him up for weeks afterwards made him even more worked up.

“Those won’t fade away f-for quite a w-while.” Patrick stammered, and Pete made a low groaning noise in the back of his throat before sucking and biting even harder. It made Patrick’s breath hitch and hands clench in the soft sheets of Pete's bed.

Pete still had his jeans and boxers halfway pushed down his legs lazily, and he adjusted so he could take them off along with his socks and shoes and finally be naked. 

His lovely dark skin seemed to stretch for miles, lit by the bedside lamp in a strange yellowish light that made shadows across Pete’s slightly sweaty face. Pete wasn’t extremely muscular, but this nice mix of toned and dark and hot.

“God, you’re so gorgeous.” Patrick gasped, and Pete smiled small and sweet.

“Says you.” 

Unable to protest, Patrick moaned loudly when Pete mouthed at his own still clothed cock. Patrick was really, really loud in bed, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Pete slid the rest of Patrick’s clothes off and very enthusiastically starting bobbing his head up and down along Patrick’s cock, no bit of teasing beforehand and it made Patrick gasp. 

His hips jerked in the air involuntarily, but Pete just fucking took all of it, so quick and messy and deep. Pete moaned around him, sending these waves of tingly heat throughout Patrick’s crotch and his body.

Pete was an utter cockslut, so eager and happy to suck Patrick off and make use of his apparently non existent gag reflex. 

“Fucking hell, Pete. Oh m-“ Patrick was cut off with his own load moan, and it seemed to bounce off of all the walls. Pete was flicking his tongue across the head of Patrick’s cock while his fingers teased at his ass, and Patrick never wanted anything more in his whole fucking life. He was a little guilty of liking to be fucked, and he was glad that Pete wanted it too.

“Please, Pete. More.” Patrick begged, and Pete reached into his bedside drawer to grab some lube and a condom. Patrick would’ve considered asking to turn the light off if Pete wasn't so fucking pretty and he wasn’t so achingly hard himself and still a bit lightheaded from the alcohol. 

Both their mouths tasted like cheap beer, but somehow it had turned sweet and delicious and perfect.

Pete kissed him again before putting the condom on and slicking up a few fingers with lube, slowly slipping a finger into Patrick while the other hand worked his cock to help ease that strange, uncomfortable feeling that came along with being fingered. Patrick liked it, to an extent, but it wasn’t really as fun at first. 

Eventually, Pete slipped another finger in after Patrick started whining and protesting, and he just had to move his hips along the glorious fingers and fuck himself on Pete’s hand, dark skin of his fingers contrasting with Patrick’s pale and soft skin of his thighs. 

The other man groaned, deep and powerful, and Patrick let out another long moan that seemed to come out from his whole body.

It was so much more fun to do this when someone else was doing it to you, that was for sure. An added bonus was that Pete was a lot better at finding his sweet spot than himself or anyone else he’d ever been this intimate with. 

Patrick fucked himself on Pete’s fingers faster, and the other man added a third one for a while before asking Patrick breathily “you ready?”.

Patrick responded with another moan, and Pete pulled his fingers out and slowly pushed his lube-slick cock in, letting out a breath. Patrick’s hands tightened on Pete’s hipbones, tight enough to leave marks. Pete was careful to go slowly, making sure he wasn’t hurting Patrick.

It eventually grew to be too much. “Oh my god, move, you idiot.” Patrick had to say eventually, and then Pete rolled his hips sharply and Patrick really hoped he wouldn’t come right after Pete just started fucking him.

Pete moved fast and hard, but with a swift movement of his hips that made Patrick feel like the earth was spinning because it felt so good. He found Patrick’s prostate nearly every time, and Patrickwas shouting and digging his fingernails into Pete’s dark skin.

“Oh, fuck. You feel so- jesus.” Pete said, totally wrecked, and Patrick’s cock bounced with each movement but he couldn’t touch it unless he wanted to come all over his own fist. 

Of course, Pete did it for him after a bit, sloppy and inconsistent in his own bliss. Patrick came quietly, unlike all the other loud noises he had been making before. Pete’s forehead with dampened with sweat, his whole body thrusting deep into Patrick and working him slowly through his orgasm. 

Pete kissed Patrick, leaning down, his chest slick with Patrick’s come, hands trailing the sides of Patrick’s face and hips. He was getting sore before Pete came into Patrick with a loud grunt and shout. His eyes screwed tightly shut, looking so beautiful and so goddamn hot. Patrick voiced this opinion, and Pete pulled out and shuddered against Patrick.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” Pete said, undone. He reluctantly peeled himself off of Patrick, who felt his eyes get heavy as he watched the other man get rid of the condom. They cuddled up in bed together under the blankets, Pete wrapping his arm around Patrick’s pale waist.

His whole body had been flushed a few minutes before, but now he just felt.. calm. His hat had fallen off and as resting on one of the pillows behind Pete, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt better than he had in a while.

“I think my friends were right when they said I needed to get laid to stop being such a bitch.” Pete said, low and quiet in Patrick’s ear. He chuckled, nuzzling up the back of his head against Pete’s mouth. Their legs tangled together lazily, Patrick dozing off slowly.

When Patrick woke up the next morning, he thought it wasn’t daytime because it was still dark. The tiny amounts of sunlight filtering through Pete’s bedroom windows were blocked by curtains and even a few pinned bed sheets.

Pete was sitting next to Patrick in bed, staring at the bright lights of his laptop screen in concentration.

He was dressed in pajamas and a t-shirt, and then Patrick realized he was naked and covered only by blankets. Pete saw him up, finally, and he shut the screen of his computer and smiled.

“G’morning, sunshine. It’s 1 pm, and I’m glad I work most days at home. You want some coffee?”

Patrick grumbled, a little grumpy sounding. He felt good. Amazing, actually, if not a little sore.

“Yes, please. How are you so cheerful this early?” Patrick managed to say, voice quiet, propping his head up on a pillow to watch Pete get up. Little dusty strawberry blonde hairs were probably sticking up everywhere, and Patrick pushed some of his hair out of his eyes.

“Lots and lot of caffeine! Plus, I don’t really sleep, so the five or so hours I got last night was quite impressive.” Pete said with a smile, a bit tinged with this exhaustion.

He walked over to the kitchen in the next room, and Patrick took the opportunity to at least put back on his boxers, and he found a random shirt of Pete’s sitting on his messy drawer.

“Oh. Wow, that looks…” Pete said when he walked into the room, looking at Patrick in his shirt and biting his lip. It must’ve been pretty awesome for Pete to see little Patrick in his shirt. No matter what Pete wore, he looked amazing through Patrick’s eyes, he could probably pull off a kilt or a roman tunic.

He shyly blushed and took a sip of the coffee Pete gave him. “I forgot to ask how you took it, so i just added some sugar to make it taste sweet just like you.” Pete said, and Patrick almost spat it all out.

“Fucking lines, man.” He groaned, wiping his mouth and shaking his head. “You can’t pull that shit on me when I’m drinking hot substances!” He squeaked, but he was smiling really bright.

Pete wasn’t in any rush to try kick him out, apparently, as he crawled back on the bed and let Patrick curl up against Pete’s side.

“So… um. Would it be cool if I asked you out on a real date?” Patrick asked, staring intently at his mug. Pete made a grunting noise, and said “well, duh.”

Patrick sighed in relief, and set his coffee down to kiss a puppy-eyed Pete who was staring hopefully down at Patrick.

“It would be the coolest. Maybe this time I’ll warn you that I’m actually in a famous band, and that everyone wants me.” 

“Don’t be so full of yourself.” Patrick ,but he stuffed his face into Pete’s shirt and sighed. He smelled musky and delicious, dark and sweet.

“You’re right, the only cute fan I want is you.”

And it was the absolute truth.


End file.
